


no resemblance

by AtlantisRises



Series: things you remembered, things you forgot [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Blupjeans is in here for like a second, Episode 63 spoilers, Found Family, Gen, IPRE family, The Stolen Century, onesided Lup/Lucretia implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlantisRises/pseuds/AtlantisRises
Summary: “I mean, this whole, this whole thing, it’s kind of a shitshow,” says Merle. He sweeps his arm out to include the dining room, the ship, the marshy world they’d landed on that morning, and, well. Everything. This whole half-century, probably. Lucretia’s nightmares, maybe, though no, he doesn’t know about those and he doesn’t need to.“In all of this,” he says, “what have ya got? Just life, just joy, just, y’know, the little moments. Gardening and shit. Booze.”****No context needed from previous works in the series. SPOILERS for ep. 63





	no resemblance

Barry and Lup turn in for the night around the same time that Merle snorts and says “and he asked me why I feel _joy_ , the emo bastard.”

Lucretia really couldn’t have left if she wanted to. Not that she does want to; she’s been having nightmares lately, and anyway she isn’t Barry, she doesn’t get to fall into bed with Lup at the end of the day, which, ok, _absolutely isn’t the point_ but anyway. _Anyway._ She doesn’t _want_ to go to bed, and even if she wanted to, she can’t.

Barry and Lup, they get to listen to the short version of the story. They get the highlights from Merle, and tomorrow, no doubt, they’ll start in with questions about anything that seems relevant to developing a strategy against The Hunger. Lucretia though, she’s here for the whole rambling thing, page by page and cover to cover. She’s already got one notebook devoted to these parleys, and it looks likely to spill into two within the next few cycles.

She stays right where she is, fiddling with her pen while Merle interrupts himself to wave Barry and Lup off. He calls something rather crass after them, which turns the back of Barry’s neck a bright red and makes Lup toss a smirking grin and a middle finger over one shoulder. It’s a rather fond flip-off—Merle has been  _dead_ for a year after all, and they’ve all missed him.

Dead. _Gods._ Lucretia bites her lip, and looks down at her notebook, and works on not thinking too hard about that _._ Her thoughts chase Barry and Lup instead. _Not much better._

Merle is still laughing, and his chair creaks as he turns back to her and says, “anyway, I said to him…” and then falls silent for a moment. When the moment stretches a bit too long to be comfortable, Lucretia looks up.

Merle’s eyes are on her, and they’re creased a bit at the edges. Upset? Concerned, maybe, which is odd. Lucretia opens her mouth, is about to invite him to continue, when Merle says “hey, Luce? When was the last time you slept?”

Lucretia dips her head, let’s the dark, tight-curled cloud of her hair bob down in front of her face. Is it that obvious? She resists the urge to prod at the thin skin under her eyes. She doesn’t want to lie, not to Merle, but neither does she want to talk about this so she shrugs and says, as dismissively as she can, “a couple of days ago, maybe? Don’t worry about it, I feel fine.”

“Ya gonna look me in the eye when you say that?”

She looks. He’s got one eyebrow cocked and a frown tugging at the left corner of his lip, and she _really doesn’t_ want to talk about this now so she schools her whole face into its most neutral, scholarly mask and says, “really Merle, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” he says. She smooths one hand over her notebook.

“Where were we? Something about joy?”

Merle snorts. “Right. John, the asshole, it’s like he doesn’t believe in the concept.”

“So he asked you…”

“What brings me joy, yeah kid, I was gettin’ back to it. He asks, and, I mean, what am I gonna say?”

He looks at Lucretia, like maybe she has an answer to that. Joy? She has an idea, maybe, but it twists in her stomach and sets her mind wandering to fire and elfin ears and the bunks on the lower level and she shakes it away. Instead she fidgets with the pen in her hand, and asks, “What did you tell him?”  

“I told him...I told him it was _life_ , y’know?” He looks at her, glances down at her twitching pen, and smiles in that soft sort of way that she hasn’t seen in over a year.

“I mean, this whole, this whole _thing_ , it’s kind of a shitshow,” says Merle. He sweeps his arm out to include the dining room, the ship, the marshy world they landed on that morning, and, well. Everything. This whole half-century, probably. Lucretia’s nightmares, maybe, though _no_ , he doesn’t know about those and he doesn’t need to.

Merle’s voice is softer when he continues, and closer. Lucretia looks up from her notebook to find that he’s leaning his tiny body across the table as far as it will go. “In all of this,” he says, “what have ya got? Just life, just joy, just, y’know, the little moments. Gardening and shit. Booze.” Lucretia snorts, despite herself, and Merle grins.  “And sometimes you even get whole fuckin’ years on the beach, and that’s awesome.”

Lucretia laughs outright this time. Merle’s eyes are big with delight. Again she thinks _I haven’t seen him in a year_ and then the laughter dies off her lips because _it’s been a year, he was dead for a year and and and…_

Her throat goes tight and the cold feeling, the one that sometimes steals over her in the middle of the night when the dreams won’t let her sleep, crawls up out of her gut and _he’ll be dead again soon. Gods._

Then a warm hand covers hers. Lucretia looks down, realizes she’s stopped writing, and jerks her head up. The concern-lines are back around Merle’s eyes.

“Hey, listen, Luce,” he starts, just as she bursts out “Sorry, sorry.” They look at each other for a moment, Merle frowning.

“Sorry,” Lucretia says, quieter. _I’m fine._ She takes up her pen. “You were saying?”  

Merle sighs, shakes his head like _what are ya gonna do?_ and withdraws his hand.

“I was saying _joy_ , kid. It’s in all that shit. And for me, I mean, it’s here. On this ship. With my family.” He smiles a little as he says it, and he’s not looking at her now, he’s staring down at the table, at his hands. “I mean. If that ain’t joy, right?”

“I…” starts Lucretia, and stops, a little mortified to hear how watery her own voice sounds. She swallows, ignores the sudden, ridiculous burn behind her eyes. No. She has herself _under control._

Unfortunately, Merle has noticed. His eyes go a little wide, first with shock, and then with what she can only call _glee._ “Is that...Lucretia are you _crying?_ ”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you _are_. You softie, you’re crying cuz I said we’re faaaaaaaamily” he crows, and he sounds ridiculous but somehow that’s it, that’s what it takes.

Lucretia’s resolve cracks and her vision blurs and a single, painful sob wracks her whole body, and then Merle is there, one hand heavy and warm on her shoulder.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, in a gentler voice. “That's enough storytime for tonight. Come on, kid, you’re going to bed.”

She shakes her head, but when the hand on her shoulder becomes pressure on her upper back, coaxing her up and out of the chair, she goes. She’s halfway to the door before she even remembers, “my notebook, my…” and Merle is already pushing it into her hands. She collapses a little onto his shoulder, then, and the walk downstairs is a bit of a blur and then she’s in her bunk and Merle is leaning against the doorway. His lips are quirked up in half a smile but it looks forced, and there’s a worried crease between his eyebrows.

“Sleep now, Lucretia, I mean it. We can go over the rest of that shit in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she says, and then, because she really is so, so tired and her brain isn’t filtering properly: “In the morning. Cuz you won’t be gone yet.”

“I. Yeah. I’ll be here.”

She nods, to him or maybe to herself, and lays her notebook down on the side table and falls, fully clothed, into the bed. “Good,” she says, as Merle snubs out the lamp by the door and steps back into the hallway. “Goodnight. And thanks.”

Merle laughs, a little awkwardly; her eyes are closed but she can picture him scratching at his beard. “Don’t mention it, kid. S’what family's for.”

***

More than half a century later, The Director sits alone in her office, a stack of journals to her left and a sheaf of Bureau paperwork under her pen. She stretches, and her joints pop, and she cards her hand back through tight grey curls with a groan. Someone clears their throat.

The Director looks up, startled, and then a little further down. Her door is open a crack and a head of shaggy grey-shot hair is poking into her office.

“Merle,” she says, her voice flat.

“Lucretia!” he cries, throwing the door open and gesturing expansively. “Y’know, I was hoping you’d be here.”

The Director sighs. “I am rarely anywhere else,” she says. “And don’t call me that.”

“Riiight. Anyway, Luce,” he says, and _no absolutely not,_ she _will not let him_ \- “I won a ticket for some kinda...spa day thing? And I can bring a guest. And honestly you look like you could use a bit of rest an’ relaxation.”

The Director stops short. A _spa_ day? She sniffs. “I assure you, Merle, I am perfectly well rested.”

Merle gives her a look. The lines around his eyes are deep now, and they crease up even as he gives a crooked smile. “All due respect, Lucretia. Madame Director. Ya’ don’t look it.”

The Director lifts her chin and looks down her nose at him and firmly resists the urge to prod at the bags under her eyes. “I am _fine_ , Merle. And I don'tneed you fussing over me.”

Merle shrugs and makes his way back to the door. “I’m just saying,” he says, his hand on the knob and his face tilted back towards her. “You gotta take care of yourself.” When she says nothing he shrugs again, and pulls the door open, and turns away.

She stands there, and thinks _don’t go._  She doesn’t say it.

Merle pauses in the doorway anyway. “Really though, Lucretia,” he says. “When was the last time you slept?”

**Author's Note:**

> I really really really love Lucretia and Merle killed me in Episode 63. 
> 
> Title is from "Sleepwalking" by Radical Face, because: 
> 
> "I got a picture on the mantle piece  
> Of the way that I thought that we'd end up  
> But this shares no resemblance to that  
> Yeah, this shares no resemblance to that at all"


End file.
